


Park(s) and Wreck(ed)

by tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Blowjobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Car Sex, Elevator Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non disclosure Agreements, One Night Stands, Oops, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: On Monday morning, Bucky’s likely to get laid off in a company merger. Might as well go out with a bang, right? Ooops.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celtic7irish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/gifts).



> For the prompt "oops"

 

There was nothing quite like having a great round of meaningless sex to take his mind off his problems.

That was the plan, at least.

Ever since Darcy Lewis had let it slip that the company buyout was going to come with yet another re-org and probable layoffs. They always did, no matter what the bigwigs promised, the whole idea of acquiring a company was to find people they could make do the work of three for the cost of three-quarters. Even if Bucky lasted through the first round of cuts, he’d done this shit before and ended up with two other people’s jobs in addition to his own.

He was already working fifty to sixty hours a week, on call for half of his Saturdays and attending conference calls at six in the fucking morning because half the staff was in India. It was absurd and obscene and Bucky was torn between desperately not wanting to lose his job and almost hoping they’d just fucking take it. Give him the severance package and let him move on to bigger and better things.

So, the plan.

Steve and Sam had gone with him to the bar, but Bucky had lost track of them almost an hour ago. They were probably out dancing, or they’d moved on to fucking in the men’s room. They did that sometimes and it never failed to make Bucky roll his eyes. Did they not have any idea how many goddamn germs there were in a men’s room stall? Ug.

Even if he was losing his job tomorrow, Bucky would hold out for a hotel room before he would put out.

Which meant he kept sweeping left on the matches on his Grindr.

_No Asians, no femmes, no fatties._

Sweep. No fucking way. Bucky didn’t stick his dick into racist assholes. (Ha, he made a pun.) He gave himself a toast with his mostly empty whiskey glass because no one else was around to toast his terrible pun. Where the hell were Steve and Sam, anyway? If Bucky was taking an Uber back to his apartment alone, he’d have liked to have known about it.

Eight and a half million people in New York City and Bucky couldn’t find anyone to fuck. It was like cable television. Two hundred channels and nothin’ worth watching.

“Now that is a grade A grouchy face there, wallflower,” someone came up beside him at the bar and practically purred in his ear. “You practice that, or is it your resting bitch face.”

“It’s my active bitch face,” Bucky responded, before turning around to see _him_.

Bucky’d been told before that he had a type, and this guy pinged every one of Bucky’s personal buttons. Brunette, dark eyes, ready grin and little laugh lines around his eyes. Tinted glasses and an elaborately styled goatee. (Bucky had a thing for beard burn, so sue him.) He was dressed up to slay, a suit that clung to a lithe, lean body and slacks that weren’t slack at all, outlining his trim waist and -- as the guy turned to order drinks from the bartender -- a killer backside.

“So, what are you actively bitching about?” The guy took his drink and knocked it back with smooth efficiency, tipping his head to drain the entire martini in one long pull. His throat worked beautifully as he swallowed, and the way he smiled when he plucked the toothpick with its three olives out of the glass and popped them into his mouth suggested that he’d done it deliberately to see if Bucky noticed.

“Do you care, or are you just makin’ small talk?” Bucky asked. The bartender slid another whiskey to him with a jerk of his chin at the guy.

“Pretend I care,” the guy said. “I’m Tony. Drink up, honey. I’ll tell you about my shitty day while you drink, then you can tell me about your shitty day while I drink, we’ll get nice and shit-faced, and I’ll blow you in the backseat of my car.”

Bucky had just picked up his whiskey and tasted it. Oh, nice, the guy had gone for top-shelf instead of Bucky’s shitty Kentucky Straight. Which meant not spitting it all over the bar. Damn, the guy was direct. On the other hand, the backseat of his car was probably cleaner than the men’s room. No one had a car in the city unless they cared about cars.

“Name’s James,” Bucky said, because there weren’t that many people he trusted with his nickname. Most men just stared at him like he was a child. What kind of a fucking nickname is Bucky? The last guy Bucky’d tried to pick up with his preferred name had actually zipped his damn pants up and walked away. “What kind of car?”

“Does it matter?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“If I’m gonna fuck you in it, yes, it matters,” Bucky said.

“Oh, you’re particular, I like that,” Tony said. “It’s a Jaguar XJS. I wouldn’t even use it, but half the rest of my cars are two seaters and my PA doesn’t like me driving in the city. And, you know, they’re all in California.”

Bucky absently wondered how many cars the man had, or if he only actually had the one and was trying to impress. Not that it mattered, if he actually had a Jaguar, and was really interested in a little romp in the backseat, Bucky was probably going to take him up on it. Meaningless fuck before his life got fucked, that’s what it was. It was a thing and Bucky was going to do it. “You’re just visiting?”

“I wish,” Tony said. “Relocating, business thing. Boring. Not what I want to complain about.”

Bucky pushed back on his bar stool to look at Tony. God, that man was gorgeous. Bucky licked his lip. “So, what do you want to complain about?”

“You know what, I can’t think of a damn thing right now,” Tony said, his eyes drawn to Bucky’s mouth and lingering. “Finish your drink and let’s get out of here.”

“Was that an order?” Bucky’s eyebrow went up. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t going to scorch the deal, but he really didn’t like bossy men. They tended to put their own gratification at the top of their priority list.

“Let me guess,” Tony said, mouth tipping up in a mimicry of a smile. How Bucky could already tell that wasn’t a natural expression? “You only take orders when naked and wearing a collar?”

“Oh, the mouth on you, darlin’,” Bucky said, because he could visualize that with crystal clarity. Not that he was big into the scene, but a little kinky sex had its appeal. Just not with a stranger. Bucky had trust issues, he knew it.

“Yes, indeed,” Tony said. He flicked his tongue out briefly to wet his upper lip. “You should give it a try.”

Well, Tony was offering a blowie, which meant him on his knees, and therefore not in the general position of giving orders. The idea of this pretty man on his knees for Bucky got him a little more interested. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Bucky texted Steve while Tony was settling up with the bartender.

 _Got a hot one_  
Catch a cab home later Cap  
Don’t wait up

Tony grabbed his wrist and started pulling him toward the door. “Come on, before you change your mind. I gotta see if you taste as good as you look.”

Bucky almost fumbled his phone.

The valet brought Tony’s car around and handed him the keys. From just down the block, a stocky man was jogging up the sidewalk. “No, no, Miss Potts was _very clear,_ sir--”

“Get in, get in!” Tony threw himself in the driver’s seat and they were down the road before Bucky even got the door closed. Tony was giggling like a maniac and driving like a Formula One race car driver. Which was kinda impressive. Even in the early morning on a Sunday (or did it count as Monday yet?), the roads weren’t exactly what anyone would call good, but Tony managed to find spaces for his sleek vehicle to move into as if by magic.

Tony’s cell phone was buzzing. “That’ll be Happy,” he said. “My driver. He’s going to yell at me.” He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, changed two lanes and ran a light that was just turning red, ignoring a chorus of angry horns. “Yeah, Hap, you’re on speaker?”

“Sir, come back here at once!” the man said. Bucky glanced at the phone; Tony had it not only on speaker but on some video chat program. The guy had the phone held up awkwardly, giving Bucky a glance at the driver’s nose, eyes, and hair and little else.

“Is this the forehead of security?” Tony asked.

“I promised Miss Potts I would stay with you th’ whole time, sir,” the driver said. “ _I promised_!”

“Yeah, well, you lied, took your eyes off the prize, let me walk around in a bar all night by myself, Happy, you’ll just have to face the consequences of your actions,” Tony said, “which, knowing Miss Potts as I do, will mean she’ll yell at me for twenty minutes tomorrow, you’ll get a bonus for putting up with my spoiled rotten ass, and we’ll all cry and promise to do better next time.”

“Mister--”

“Ah-ah, no,” Tony said. “What did I say about calling me Mister anything? That’s my dad. It’s banishment for you, Happy.” He plucked the phone off the magnetic holder, triggered the car’s window with one finger, changed lanes again, and threw the _fucking phone right out the window_.

“You are _crazy_ ,” Bucky told him.

“Bet your pretty ass I am,” Tony said, “and you’re letting me drive, so what does that say about you, sunny?”

“I kinda got the impression back there that nobody _lets_ you do shit,” Bucky said, “and you do exactly as you goddamn well please.”

“That kinda sexy talk is gonna get you laid, James,” Tony said.

“Yeah? Back seat of your car, you said. Where, ‘xactly?”

“Got a parking space at my hotel,” Tony told him. “But we can go upstairs and use the bed, if you want.”

Bucky ran a hand over the leather seats. The car still had that new car smell, leather and plastics and a little bit of orange-scented sanitizer. The stitching felt nice under his fingertips. It was a pretty damn nice car, honestly.

“You said car,” Bucky pointed out. “Think I’d like that.” Also, it was weird to go up to someone’s specific hotel room. Weird and personal, like hitting someone’s apartment. Not that Bucky hadn’t done that before, but that was usually a case of drunken staggering down the block to meet up with a Grindr hookup.

He wasn’t sure. It was just weird.

Besides, he kinda wanted to see Tony crouched in the footwell of the Jag, lit by the dim fluorescents of a parking garage.

“A man who knows what he wants. I like you, James,” Tony said, and then he was flashing a card-key at the hotel’s security box. He drove through the garage and found a corner spot, backing the car into the space with ease, something Bucky would not have wanted to attempt in that tiny little turn around after as much booze as Tony had put away.

“Go on, get in the back,” Tony invited. Bucky climbed out of the passenger seat, and Tony stayed right where he was, watching. Bucky wondered if this was all some weird practical joke where Tony would slam the locks down and drive off, and if it was, _why_?

But he didn’t. Tony just waited until Bucky was opening the back door to slide the seat up and tip it forward so that he could crawl over the gearshift and end up sprawled in Bucky’s lap like some predator-cat, and wasn’t that hot as hell?

Tony kissed like he drove, wild, crazy, and not sticking to the speed limit. His tongue was in Bucky’s mouth, the taste of martinis and some heady aftertaste. He nipped and lipped at Bucky’s mouth, licking into it like he was taking frosting off a cupcake. Sloppy and wet and open and so unbelievably hot.

Bucky turned his head to gasp for air, noting they were already fogging up the glass, a sure sign to anyone outside the car what they were up to, but the chances of getting caught were remote, just enough to give their encounter a darker thrill. Tony was sucking at Bucky’s throat, like a starving vampire. Bucky thought about protested, he didn’t really need to go to work tomorrow looking like he’d had a walk-on roll for _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , but at the same time, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d already be walking in there with sunglasses and the puffy face of too much drink and not enough sleep. Might as well get the debasement to match.

Tony ran a hand down his chest, yanking Bucky’s shirt up to show off his chest. “Hold that,” Tony told him. Bucky kept his shirt pulled up while Tony explored the rest of him, licking at Bucky’s nipples until they were hard and aching. That was nice, Bucky’s nipples were so, so sensitive, but most one nighters didn’t care much for nipple play. They wanted to go straight to the goods, and what Bucky might have wanted in a lover was thrown over while they both raced to get to an orgasm and a messy good night and the desperate hope of never seeing each other again,

It was as artificial and ugly as everything else in Bucky’s life.

Jesus, what the hell had been in those drinks? Bucky was getting maudlin as hell, which didn’t make much sense, given that a really, really hot guy was opening up Bucky’s pants and staring at Bucky’s cock like it was a dream come true.

“Holy shit, you’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Tony wrapped his hand around Bucky’s shaft, measuring the girth with his fingers and marveling at it. He made a production of inching his way up Bucky’s cock, then, “almost twenty-two centimeters, my hand to God.”

“No, your hand’s on me,” Bucky told him, flushing. He wasn’t porn star huge, but he’d seen enough pricks to know he was on the larger side. It _usually_ wasn’t a deal breaker, and there’d been a couple of guys who’d been thrilled to find themselves with the top of all their wank fantasies. “Pretty sure God don’t want anything to do with that.”

“You are so sassy,” Tony said. “I like that.”

“You keep sayin’ that, and here’s my dick, still unsucked,” Bucky said, and then he was gripping at the grab-handle for balance and all but screaming.

Tony went down on him like he was a professional sword-swallower, taking him most of the way down in one long pull.

Tony took his blowjobs seriously, getting both hands into the mix, one twisting around the base of Bucky’s cock, the other one fondling his balls and Bucky couldn’t have done anything else but arch into it if he’d been on fucking fire. His entire body responded to Tony’s touch, all shouting _oh, god, yes_ at the same time. His heart pumped harder and his breath came faster and his whole being was a mess of nerves and heat that were steadily coursing downward. He was acutely aware of his own skin, and how each inch of it was craving Tony’s touch.

His hands wandered into Tony’s hair, down his shoulders, along his spine, caressing him through that fucking suit and how hot was that? The feel of crisp, rich fabric under his fingertips, the debauched look on Tony’s face when he glanced up, peering at Bucky though long eyelashes, those lips red and puffy.

Bucky was drunk with the heat of it, and the wanting, and the way Tony’s mouth moved on him. He drunkenly wanted it all and he wanted it _now_.

A gathering of electrical current, sizzling from his ears all the way down to the arches of his feet, pooling in his balls. His toes curled inside his shoes and his hand tightened on Tony’s hair, holding him right where he was.

Tony pulled off for just a moment to lick his lips, give Bucky a wicked glance. “ _Bossy_ ,” he said. And just that, just that, was enough to tip Bucky over the edge and he was spurting come, gasping for breath. Tony managed to get his mouth back over the crown of Bucky’s dick -- and Jesus, that was something else right there, as oversensitive as he was -- to keep the mess to a minimum. At least that was Bucky’s thought at first, swallowing meant not having to have the cleaners in to sterilize the back seat, except after Bucky was done, collapsed and trying to catch his breath, Tony went about licking Bucky’s stomach clean, scraping his beard over the tender skin of Bucky’s belly.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Bucky said, arching up into it. He had always loved the way that felt, that too-rough tickle of beard, followed by soft lips and a wet tongue, and Jesus, if he’d had anything left, he might have come again, whimpering and writhing under Tony’s mouth.

Tony petted him and nuzzled him through the aftershocks and the dreamy laziness that came post-coital, not even once indicating that he was bored or restless, or even horny. He just watched and stroked Bucky’s skin and over his thighs, still trapped in clubbing pants.

“So, uh,” Tony said, eventually as Bucky’s eyes came back into focus, “James, I was wondering if you might let me fuck you. I know, I know, big as you are, you’re probably used to doing it the other way, but I think it might take too long to work me open to take you, and I do have an early morning tomorrow.”

Bucky just about cried. Tony wasn’t wrong; Bucky usually topped on the rare occasions that he had a hookup that was interested in more than just a hand job or a little swordfighting. But damn, he missed being fucked, that closeness, that fullness, the way it stretched and satisfied. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, you got, you got stuff?” Bucky had a lube packet and a condom in his wallet if they needed it, but he wondered if Tony was prepared.

“Hey, it’s me,” Tony said, like that was supposed to mean something, and maybe it did. Bucky gave himself another minute to catch his breath, then shifted, getting onto his knees and pillowing his head on his forearms, giving Tony the best angle in the small space. The scent of the new car leather surrounded him, was brilliant and hot and Tony had gotten his supplies from wherever he was keeping them -- the glovebox, Bucky thought.

Tony’s hand went down on the back of his neck, keeping his face pushed against the car seat, his ass arched up for Tony’s attention. Bucky didn’t mind. He let his cheek rub against the leather, blissed out, as Tony started working him open. Bucky bit down on his arm, feeling the sting as Tony breached him. He was trembling and the sweet ache of Tony’s fingers made him shiver all over, in pleasure.

He pushed back into Tony’s touch, greedy for the warmth and hardness of the man, too eager to let him get a proper stretch. He was whining for it, nearly begging. Tony’s hands promised so much more, so much better, and Bucky savoured his expertise. Pushed back until Tony was three fingers deep in him and rubbing at his prostate. He didn’t know how to resist that temptation, didn’t even know why he should, so he gave himself up to Tony’s care.

Finally, Bucky heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper, and then -- “Here,” Tony said. Bucky reached back and discovered that Tony had a tissue for him, which made Bucky laugh.

“You think I’m gonna again?”

“Do you think you’re not?”

And then Tony was pushing into him, filling him up. It stretched and burned and felt so goddamn good it was no wonder it had been illegal. Anything that good was rated right up there with sin and danger and deadly. Bucky damn near died, he was sure of it, as Tony moved, rocking into him.

Tony had pushed his shirt up again and was dropping searing kisses along Bucky’s spine, which was oddly sweet and tender and Bucky was loving every aching second of it.

“God, you feel good, baby,” Tony was babbling, stroking Bucky’s thighs and then gripping his ass, spreading his cheeks and pushing in, squeezing as he went. The scorching touch of Tony’s mouth burned away every fleck of Bucky’s sanity until he was drooling onto his arm and the seat’s leather and rocking helplessly back into the push of Tony’s strokes, meeting each one with enthusiasm.

Tony’s hand was back on his neck again, keeping Bucky there. As if Bucky wanted to go anywhere except where Tony was taking him. He needed more, more, more, and even though he could hardly form words to ask for it, Tony was giving it to him. The first, light tug of Tony’s hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock send silver threads of electricity under his skin. He hadn’t even realized he was hard again, but then he was moaning, fucking up into Tony’s hand.

It was wild and dark, a pulsing throb of sensation. Tony took him into the darkness, drawing him deeper with his hands, with that cock, and his low, ragged voice.

The remnants of his restraint fell away, and Bucky found himself begging and moaning, wanton and open and vulnerable, needing and wanting and desperate. Lost in the scent of Tony’s skin, so potently masculine, a touch of amber cologne and soap and sweat, in the sinful strokes of his hand, the stunning power of muscle in those long, rangy thighs.

Bucky wanted, he _wanted_. He hadn’t thought he would come again, getting fucked was its own reward but an orgasm wasn’t always part of the deal, but then he was pretty sure he was going to. Christ, he was staring at thirty-five, not fifteen anymore, but he felt it building. Spasms racked him, and an unreasoning, inescapable craving.

Tony moved inside him, slow strokes and then faster until he was pounding away, and their thighs smacked together like clapping and Bucky was crying out, and Tony was moaning. Heat and passion and desire raced between them like its own living thing, determined to consume them both. Bucky was with him the whole way, moving and feeling, and this was exactly what Bucky had needed, exactly what he wanted, and he was tipping over the edge of the abyss. One last, searing burst of rapture and then Bucky sank into release. He barely remembered the tissue in his hand, and he probably missed more than he caught.

Tony bit him again, one last time, sucking hard at the skin and leaving what would undoubtedly be a brilliant purple mark on his hip.

Bucky moaned as Tony slipped out of him, hole fluttering in protest of being suddenly empty.

“God, you’re precious,” Tony said, and from anyone else, Bucky might have taken that as an insult, but Tony had just thoroughly fucked him and done a damn fine job of it, too, and Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to be offended.

“If you go all Gollum on me and start calling me your precious, we are going to have a disagreement,” Bucky said. He mopped at his spill with the tissue and only succeeded in smearing it around. “Yuck.”

“That is not my fault,” Tony said, handing him another tissue.

“Excuse you,” Bucky told him. “It is entirely your fault. Which is why it’s good that it’s _your_ car.”

“Look, uh, my etiquette here is not current,” Tony said. “Do I offer you a ride home now, or cab fare or what?”

“Go up to your room and sleep, Smeagol,” Bucky told him, zipping himself back up. “I’ll get a cab or something, not a big deal.”

“All right, my precious,” Tony said, and it was all Bucky could do not to kiss him, he wanted to kiss Tony, so, so much. Post-coital hormones making him sappy. “Here. Cab fare, since I cost you your ride home, and I’ll put something in your pocketses.” Tony slid a hand into Bucky’s front pocket. “Call me, if you want.”

Bucky gave into the urge to kiss him. If Tony was asking him to call, then maybe he’d like to do this again. Having a regular booty call, one that satisfied him, and was satisfied by him, that was a gift rarer than rubies and Bucky would be a fool to turn it down.

Tony’s mouth was still tangy with Bucky’s taste, and his lips were soft and he kissed Bucky back without a trace of hesitation, warm and firm and giving.

“G’nite, Tony,” Bucky said, then, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome, my precious,” Tony said in a scarily accurate Gollum voice. With a laugh and a wave, Bucky exited the car and made his way to the street, where he poked at his phone app to get a ride.

***

Bucky was late getting up, lackadaisical in the shower. He drank two cups of coffee before he even got dressed, head aching and thighs pleasantly sore. He didn’t bother to shave, but he did pose in the mirror for a few minutes to admire the brilliant series of hickeys down the side of his throat. He looked utterly debauched and dissipated. Great. Lovely first impression for the new boss. He was decidedly getting laid off.

Hello, severance package. Good morning, job search.

He managed to get to his office before the new boss came around. Darcy rushed him in. “Where have you been? Stark’s been visiting all of the mid-level executives in their offices.”

“Who’s been let go, so far?”

“Hammer’s gone. Stone slunk away, trying to hide with his box of stuff. You’ve got ten minutes to get your ass up there-- what the hell, did you go bar crawling last night?”

Bucky shrugged and squeezed Darcy’s arm. He was going to miss her. “Don’t worry about me. I’m already emotionally prepared.”

He got up to his office, didn’t bother to turn on the lights, and booted up his computer, squinting in pain around the electrical whine.

A few minutes later, someone rapped on his door frame, and Bucky looked up. “Good morning, Mr. uh--”

Bucky trailed off. A very familiar pair of whiskey dark eyes were looking him over, that sybaritic mouth twisting into a grin. Bucky’s heart dropped somewhere around his ankles and tried to scurry away. “Uh, oops?”

“Well, hello, precious,” Tony Stark said.

**Fin**

 


	2. Tik Tok, Don't Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this happened about halfway through doing my March Madness, I really thought this one was going to win, and I had another key fic prompt to do, 
> 
> Tick Tock, you're on the clock...
> 
> So, this is the Most Valued Fic, since it got the most combined votes while it was in the running over all the rest of the fics...

_Pepper is going to kill me._

Tony swallowed a mouthful of nerves. “Mr. Barnes,” he tried again, because damn it, he shouldn’t have called the man anything else. Should have tried to play it cool. Something, damn it.

Even though the first thing that had happened when he’d turned into the dark office and seen James -- Barnes, apparently -- looking hungover and utterly well used, Tony’s own lovebites decorating his throat was to spring wood so hard and so fast he thought he was going to fall over. All the blood in his body rushed south in a heated wave.

“Just tell me it’s a good package deal, an’ I’ll clear out,” James said. He was already gathering stuff off his desk and tossing it in a printer-paper box without even looking.

“What, no,” Tony said.

“It’s a _bad_ package deal?” James snorted. “Should have guessed. Two weeks, I hope? Because it takes a while for unemployment benefits to kick in.”

“No,” Tony repeated, feeling like he was off key for this conversation and not sure how to turn it around. “It’s a great severance package, honestly. Two weeks for every year you’ve been with the company--”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” James said, brightening a little. He started unpinning photographs from his wall, including a child somewhere in the elementary school range. “I’ve been here for eight years, that should give me some breathing room.”

“Well, no,” Tony said. He felt like a malfunctioning bit of computer code. “Because you’re… you’re not getting a package, Mr. Barnes. If, well, I mean, you can, if you’d rather, but… quite frankly, we were hoping you’d consider the position of Director of IT Services, for this branch? That comes with an entirely different sort of package.”

The framed photo James was holding slipped from his fingers and clattered against his desktop. “What?”

Tony managed to push his heart back into his chest where it belonged, took a breath and put his press smile on his face. “My apologies, I’m usually better at giving good news than this,” he said. He stepped the rest of the way into James’ office, shut the door behind him. “It wasn’t how I meant to lead in at all, so, let’s start over. Yes, there were some departmental layoffs, that was unfortunate, but with the merger, there were some overlapping positions. Some people from our branch of Stark Industries also went; where duties were in conflict, I went with the employee most suited for the current openings.”

James had practically fallen into his desk chair, tipping back to stare at the ceiling in confusion, showing off those hickeys to perfection. “Uh… sorry, that wasn’t… what?”

“If you’ll check your email, you should have an official offer from Ms. Potts, who’s--”

“I know who Ms. Potts is,” James said. “She’s the CEO of Stark Industries. Who just bought us out.” James leaned forward. “You’re Tony Stark. You. Are Tony Stark.”

Tony resisted the urge to pat his pockets as if looking for his secret identity. “Yes, that’s me.” He hesitated, then added, “If you check your email, you’ll notice that this offer was actually processed Friday. And has nothing whatsoever to do with our--”

“You’re Tony _Stark_.”

Tony rolled his tongue around in his mouth, then, “Yes. And you’re the guy I met in the bar last night and had a perfectly lovely time with. Which was… just a coincidence.”

James looked up at him. “Was it?” There was a dark layer of suspicion there.

“Yes, yes it was,” Tony insisted. “Not that it matters. I’d have given you the job regardless. Assuming you want it.” Tony gestured with both hands, not even sure what he was trying to say. “Look, off the record here, take the job. I won’t make it weird. We can… pretend yesterday never happened.”

James flinched, then his expression smoothed out. “Right.”

“So, uh, Director, if you want to take the job... Of course, you’ll want to look over the compensation and benefits package, there’s some nice stock options there, or you can take it all in an increased salary, whatever you prefer, although if past events can predict future trends, I’d take at least five percent in stock, that’s just me, your mileage may vary, and of course, I have faith in our stock, I kinda have to, right?

“And there’s staffing, of course, you’d have final say over any staff that remains in IT, although I’d appreciate it if you gave the team we put together for you at least six months. The stock does this weird wobbly thing if there are layoffs, and then more layoffs. Also, I like people to feel comfortable, and if they know they’re safe for a while, that tends to make them more productive.”

“Sure, sure,” James said. He was seated again, at least, even if he hadn’t moved the box out of his lap. “Why, er, come in, sir. Sit down.”

 _Sir_. Tony concealed a flinch. He considered turning on the lights, in revenge for being sirred, but that would be cruel and unusual punishment. Also, viewing James in the dim lighting gave him an excuse not to openly gawk at the hickeys down the man’s throat.

Tony sprawled in one of the seats in front of James’ desk. “You’ll get a nicer office, too. Bigger. I thought you might want to furnish it yourself, so there’s a catalog attached to your email, the furnishing’s got a budget of… well, it’s in there, along with our line of preferred desks and chairs. You can pick from anything on the list, really. We like to keep it in the same branding, to promote a look of unity across the company, you know.”

James just shrugged, like he didn’t know. He still didn’t say anything, so Tony kept talking because that was what Tony did when he was uncomfortable. He filled the space with the sound of his own voice.

“Um, there’s three managers under you, Manager of IT Services, Manager of IT Software and Licenses, and Manager of Operations. There’s an integrations team meeting Wednesday morning, at nine, for a full three hours -- sorry about that, I know it’s a lot, and you don’t have much time to prepare -- and will end with a full departmental lunch. Each manager has between three and seven reports answering to them, and you’ll work at all levels. I like our directors to keep their fingers in the pies, so you’ll be expected to have at least a moderate understanding of what everyone does. Those interviews will happen over the next week or so, as you do one on ones with your entire team.”

James was staring, but Tony was pretty sure he wasn’t actually looking at Tony, but more at the blank space on the wall just over Tony’s shoulder.

“I also have assigned Natalie Rushman to be your personal assistant. She’ll do everything from maintaining your schedule to upgrading your surface presentations. Before Ms. Potts and I changed jobs, she used to be _my_ personal assistant, so keep that in mind.”

“What’s that mean, _surface presentations_?”

Tony flinched. “Um, even assuming that you don’t normally come to work--” He waved a hand at James and his dishevelled appearance. “Somewhere a few years back it came to my attention that we were losing employees who were brilliant, but unfashionable. It may be unfair that judgements are made, clothes make the man, et cetera, but… since I’ve become aware that it _does_ … we maintain a very strict dress code at Stark Industries, and grooming policies. But, because we do, we also provide employees an allowance. Your personal preferences will be taken into consideration, and you know, if dyeing your hair green is what you like, go for it. But I don’t want to see your roots showing, and neither does anyone else. Considering that most people aren’t trained for that sort of image maintenance, we have other people to assist.”

“You want to tell me how to dress?” James repeated.

“Yes,” Tony said. “People who look good feel good. People who feel good work smarter. It’s part of a global package; there’s a lot of mandatory time off, too. We don’t believe in working our people to death. Happy employees are productive. Happy employees are loyal. Our vacation and sick time policy is very generous, I think you’ll agree. And we have a number of social and recreational company activities in order to produce a well bonded and enjoyable office life.”

“You really believe that?”

“Well, I think our stock analysis proves it,” Tony said. “Look, read through the package. I know it’s a lot, and I know you weren’t expecting to see me today, so that’s got you all… whatever it is that you are. Why don’t you come to my office around four thirty or so, and you can give me your decision then?”

He barely waited for James to nod before bolting from the room. Tony didn’t even bother to acknowledge Darcy Lewis’s chipper little farewell as he hit the elevator button and got the fuck out of Dodge.

Tony needed to think.

Or needed to drink.

One or the other.

Or both.

Both.

Both was good.

***

“So, uh,” Tony said, spinning around in his chair, cell tucked against his shoulder awkwardly, “head’s up.”

“What did you do now, Tony?” Pepper said, and that was fair, it was fair, because Tony was well known for screwing up, he was pretty well known for sticking his foot so far in his mouth that he was shitting bootpolish, and Pepper had nursemaided him through a dozen different disasters just in the last month.

“In my defense, I didn’t know who he was.”

“Am I going to turn on the television and see another special report on MSNBC?”

“No,” Tony said. “Or, at least, I don’t think so? I suspect that might be up to Barnes, really.”

“Barnes?”

“James Barnes,” Tony clarified. “The acquisition that we planned to move into the Director position, you remember the one?”

“Right, yeah, okay,” Pepper said, and Tony heard the brief clatter of his fingers on the keyboard and she brought up the file. “He looks good for the position, really, did the initial interview not go well?”

“Um, not sure yet,” Tony said. He stopped spinning long enough to refill his glass, dropped another whiskey ice ball in it from the freezer. The best thing about the new office was the wet bar. Very nice, really. The chair wasn’t so great, but he could get in a new one, which he would, since he was supposed to stay in New York for at least a year after the merger, that was part of the deal, not just because of the merger, but because he and Pepper were trying to rebuilding their friendship and their working relationship after they’d broken up from a three year long dating relationship, and they’d both decided -- look at them, being all mature and adulting and everything -- that it might go smoother if they were on different coasts.

Not that Tony had shown up on her doorstep once or twice, drunk off his ass and begging her to take him back. Really, only twice. He should get a damn medal for that. And it had been six months since the last one. He thought he was doing pretty well, all things considered. He was over it. He was glad they were trying to be friends, and he understood that Pepper needed her space, and to not feel weirdly guilty whenever she saw him. Tony understood that.

“Why don’t you just tell me what happened and I’ll decide how much of a crisis it is.”

“I… might have slept with him.”

There was a faint inhale, not quite a sigh, not quite a gasp. Just… something. Tony could hear her judging him over the phone.

“Not this morning!” Tony protested, even though she hadn’t said anything.

“When?”

“Last night,” Tony admitted. “Uh, I didn’t know who he was, I was bored, and… I picked him up at a bar. The guy is fucking gorgeous, like you wouldn’t believe. I defy anyone alive to not want to sleep with this guy, I mean…”

“All right,” Pepper said, and there went those fingers again, typing furiously. “I assume he didn’t know who you were, either. Typical bar pick up, first names, and condoms? Please tell--”

“Yes, Pepper, I was drunk and bored, not stupid,” Tony said. “I don’t think he did, really. He seemed… pretty stunned. I think he was expecting to be laid off, honestly.”

“All right, well, I’ve got a NDA for him, you’ll want him to sign it, either way,” Pepper said. “Give him a bonus if you have to, but we don’t need that sort of rumor to hit the streets, no matter what he decides.”

“Can do, just-- oh, there it is, that was fast.” Tony didn’t want to think about the fact that Pepper had those sorts of forms readily accessible, because really, what did it say about him. Except he was honest enough with himself to admit that it probably was necessary.

“And Tony?”

“Yeah, boss?” Movement caught his eye; there was a camera on the approach to his office that fed directly into his computer’s view. Tony didn’t like surprises. The man obviously had no idea he was being watched, straightened a tie in the mirror and shot his cuffs before raking a hand through his hair to make it carefully careless. James Barnes.

“Don’t--”

Whatever she was about to say, Tony interrupted her. “I gotta go, Pep. He’s here.” He disconnected the line, tossed his phone on the desk, and put his drink down. The ice rattled in the cup a little nervously.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Come in,” Tony said, standing up and gesturing to the chairs across from him. “I hope you’ve had an opportunity to look over the package.” It was completely unfair, the change in the man. Tony wondered if what James had done instead was run home for a nap and a shower and a change of clothes. Wouldn’t surprise him, as good as he looked. Which was probably good, right? That he was going to take the time to upgrade his appearance from expecting to get fired and not giving a fuck to doing a job interview?

“I did, thank you, sir,” James said. “The terms are very generous, and I’m interested in moving forward.”

“Great,” Tony said. He punched the print button on Pepper’s email. “I… uh. Given that things are a little unorthodox, as far as our working relationship goes, this is a nondisclosure agreement.”

James flushed as he took the pages from Tony’s hand. “Um--”

“Yes, that means what you think it means,” Tony said. “I already spoke with Ms. Potts about the situation, so she’s aware. Don’t worry, she’s used to my drunken exploits, there’s no particular stigma that’s going to follow you around with the company. This is to protect both of us. The timing is particularly tricky, and we want to avoid the appearance of impropriety.”

“Just the appearance of it?” The way James blushed, Tony was certain he hadn’t meant to ask that. Which was nice, because it meant that James might actually be on the same wavelength.

“Look, what happened, it happened,” Tony said. “And I, for one, do not regret it, except that it makes--”

“Awkward,” James said, that blush still staining hi cheeks and throat, and fuck, that was gorgeous. Honestly, if James was trying to hit all of Tony’s hot buttons, he couldn’t have managed the trick any better.

“Little bit,” Tony said. “And, you know, I want to reiterate, I didn’t know who you were. I… I picked you up last night because I wanted to. There was no ulterior motives, and I’m not rewarding your off-the-job performance with the job offer. That’s a legitimate offer. I don’t want--”

“You’re not paying me to be your bed partner,” James said. His eyelashes fluttered a few times, as if saying something so scandalous was beyond the pale for him.

Tony felt like he was in a bad romantic comedy and that someone had neglected to give him a copy of the script. “I am not,” Tony said.

James skimmed down through the agreement, his eyes moving from point to point. “So, I guess this means I shouldn’t call you,” James said. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and his teeth came down to dent that soft surface. Tony had good reason to know how that mouth felt, and there was a sudden rush of blood moving south.

“Was… was that even on the table?” Tony hadn’t expected the man to call, even if he hadn’t been anything but a one night stand, but… he had to admit, James was damn good sex, and he’d been deliciously responsive to Tony’s lovemaking. “I mean, before this morning, were you even--”

“I was _absolutely_ going to call you,” James said, eyes suddenly bright. “But, uh…”

“There’s nothing in that document that puts a kibosh on… extracurricular activities,” Tony said. “Just… no talking about it. I mean, we’d need to talk about it, between us, because there are layers now, that weren’t there last night, and--”

“It’s risky,” James put in, “no, I get it, and I totally understand, I was just clarify--”

Tony wasn’t sure what motivated him to move, the way the man was chewing on his lip between words, or the way he was studying Tony’s face, or even the way that criminally hot blush refused to leave the man’s cheeks. Maybe it was that he was leaning forward as he talked, an unconscious invitation. Or that Tony just wanted him, _so damn bad_ …

But he leaned over his desk and grabbed James’ tie and reeled him in, cutting off those words in the best possible way.

His mouth came down on James’, tasting the lip balm the man was using, smelling a heavy dose of cologne and bathroom soap. Maybe he hadn’t gone home at all, but had stripped in the men’s room and given himself a sponge bath. Tony could visualize James in front of a huge, wall length mirror, naked to the waist and washing himself off with paper towels, and that should not be so goddamn hot, but it _was_.

James made a soft, accepting noise and then they were necking over the desk. Mouth hot and heavy. James practically scrambled over, one knee going up on the surface of the desk to give himself leverage. Tony kept his hold on that tie, kept him close. James’ tongue slid between Tony’s lips, one hand cupping the back of Tony’s neck.

The few ornamental doodads that Facilities had left for Tony to make his office not seem quite so sterile smashed to the floor in a cascade of noise as James crawled over Tony’s desk until he was sitting on the edge, thighs spread to welcome Tony between them. Still kissing the entire time, mouth eager, little whimpers and sighs coming out of his throat as they struggled to strip each other, tie ending up in a tangle on the floor.

Tony was careful with James’ buttons, getting the shirt off and tossed to the side. It would be wrinkled, but there wasn’t much Tony could do about that. He needed to get his hands on that skin, needed to see those marks from the previous evening, needed to feel James’ chest under his palms.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Tony told him, leaning back to get his full share of the view. James was arched back, hands on the padded leather desk blotter, his spine curved. Tony bent, licked over the man’s clavicle, tasting his skin. James’ thighs quivered and he bent his legs around Tony’s backside, pulling him closer. Damn, he was so responsive, so eager and enthusiastic, Tony could barely breathe by how lovely it was.

James sat up, got a hand down the front of Tony’s pants, the belt undone and zipper torn. Tony groaned, pushing into it. He was hard enough to drill for fucking diamonds, urgent and sloppy with his need.

“I want you,” James was saying as he nipped and licked at Tony’s ear. “God, this is _so crazy_.”

“Go crazy, then,” Tony said. “I’m going with you.”

God, Pepper was going to kill him. James hadn’t even signed the NDA yet and they were already more than half naked and God help Tony if someone walked in the office right now. He’d be the one up shits creek, and yet. James was so messy and disheveled; so perfectly _ruined_ , that Tony couldn’t resist.

James’ kiss was hot and fierce, honest and open and needy. Tony struggled to get closer, feeling his heat and arousal against his thigh. James practically bucked off the desk, rutting mindlessly. Tony squirmed, not to get away, but because it felt so damn good to writhe against the man, the the heat and wild sensation of it. Because he needed it. Damnit, if he didn’t get James naked and spread out over the big desk, he was going to lose his fucking mind.

Tony kissed James’ neck and shoulders, licked over those bruises he’d left at their last tryst, tasting the flavor of the marks, a little darker and copper-toned than the rest of James’ skin. He slid down, pushing clothing out of his way until James’ trousers were off, one cuff dangling from his ankle. James still had his socks on, a purple and red tartan pattern, which made Tony’s lips curl up into a helpless smile.

Remembering how James had squirmed and pleaded, Tony lowered his mouth, nipping his way down James’ chest until he latched onto one of those lovely brown nipples, teasing it with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth, abusing the tender flesh until James had both arms wrapped around Tony’s head and was moaning wantonly.

“Wanna take you home and spread you out over my bed,” Tony told him. “Take my time and do this right.”

“You’re doin’ just fuckin’ fine,” James told him, his whole body practically plastered to Tony’s as he shifted and moved and wriggled. The ends of James’s hair escaped from its careless style, tickling at Tony’s cheek as James dragged him up for another kiss. The smell of his skin surrounded Tony, the sweet eager moans filled his ears, a combination of sight and scent and sound that was a lethal combination for Tony, as inevitable as fate.

James’s hand was on him, moving with delicious friction inside Tony’s pants, stroking him with urgency. The shock and pleasure of it vibrated through him, aching in his balls, sending bolts of heat down his spine.

Tony shoved his pants down until they were pooled around his knees.

“There’s, there’s,” James said, desperately gasping for air. “Lube. Condom. My wallet.”

From last night, when James had been in the bar trying to find a hook up, but Tony had supplies in his car. Tony scooped the leather bifold off the floor where it had fallen out of James’ pocket. There was something shivery and illicit in that, holding another man’s wallet and opening it up, but James only watched him with trusting, eager eyes.

Tony took the packets out, tossed the wallet carelessly into his chair. Wet his fingers and circled James’ hole. The man groaned and the muscle fluttered there. “Oh, sweetheart,” Tony crooned, “look at you, still ready for me.” James flushed again, his chest going blotchy with rose-colored splotches, and damn that was so sexy.

It was easy, sweet, like they’d been together for years, how James opened up for him, the muscle loose and relaxed. “God, _please_ , Tony,” James whimpered, shifting as Tony scissored his fingers apart. Tony slid in, fucking James with his fingers, slow and torturous, drawing it out until James was riding his hand as best he could, face red and hair sweaty. Mouth open and crying out. So, so gorgeous.

That massive cock of his bobbed against his belly, swollen thick and dark, dripping with precome, and Tony wanted to taste it. Shrugging a mental shoulder, Tony did just that, dropped to one knee to get a good angle and took in that lucious cock, slurping over the broad head. He kept his hand moving inside James, teasing and searching. The man was ready, so ready, but Tony wanted to make it last; the noises coming out of James’ throat were damn appealing.

James’ legs went around Tony’s head, knees hooking over his shoulders to hold him in place, and that was so hot. His hands were in Tony’s hair and he was wailing with delight every time Tony slid his tongue down that steely length, or twisted his wrist.

James was rocking against him, flowing like the ocean. It was wicked and filthy-beautiful and Tony hung on, the hot darkness of his desire flowing through him. He made sounds against James’ skin, he wasn’t even sure what, word, growls, curses, pleas. He was practically crazy with passion, dizzy with animal lust.

“You have to,” James said, his voice spiraling up with desperation.

And then Tony was rolling the condom on over his own cock, shaking with urgency. He lined them up and pushed, feeling the muscle give way and sliding in to James’ tight ass. “Oh, god.” He pushed in a little further, an inch or two, and James curled up, clinging to Tony’s shoulders.

James bit his lip, head tipped back so he could watch Tony’s face, his hair sweaty and sticking to his skin. Tony tenderly pushed those locks back, tucked them behind James’ ear.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Tony said. “I could look at you all damn day.”

“Oh, this is… this is so good-- very good, Tony, Tony, please, please fuck me.”

“Hold on,” Tony said, and then he thrust. James reached down with one hand and grabbed onto the edge of Tony’s desk, holding himself in place, and then using his leverage to fuck himself onto Tony’s cock, burying him to the hilt.

James was staring at him, eyes dreamy and soft, and he was rocking shamelessly on Tony’s dick. Tony’s hands went to James’ thighs, kept him spread open and fucked him. There was nothing gentle about it, nothing sweet. It was filthy and lewd and the most perfect thing that Tony had ever done. James’ cock slipped and slid between their bellies as they moved together with one mind, toward one goal.

His mouth was hot on Tony’s, licking inside with abandon, breath warm and rapid against Tony’s cheek.

They moved together, sliding and rocking, skin to skin and mouth to mouth, lost to sensation and passion and Tony was crying out against James’ throat. He got a hand into the mix, slid between them and tugged on James’ cock, felt that thick weight filling up his hand, so damn huge, it was unreal.

“I got you, I got you,” Tony told him, and then James threw his head back, baring a sweet and sensual throat and wet heat mushroomed between them, liquid and slick as James found his climax. He clenched down on Tony, shivering and shaking, and that sent Tony into white-hot oblivion.

Tony plowed in a few more times, taking James through his aftershocks, each shuddering clench a delicious torture against Tony’s overstimulated dick. Smeared the mess between them until they were both painted with James’ come.

“Oh, god,” James finally said, pushing back a little, letting the cooler air rush in between them. “That… that…”

“Was wonderful,” Tony said, although there was a seed of doubt, guilt, niggling into his belly and planting itself there. James curled up a little, like a pillbug that was startled and Tony petted his hair and shoulders, soothing. “It’s okay. That was… something else, honey.”

“Yeah,” James said. “I… uh… yeah, never did anything like that before.”

Tony didn’t blush often but sometimes it was surprised out of him and he felt his cheeks heat. But hell, anyone with an internet connection could find the same out. “I… sometimes, yeah,” he confessed. “But, uh--” _What the hell are you going to say now, Stark? That it_ meant _something to you. You barely know the guy._

“So, what happens now?”

Tony rubbed his hands together for a few minutes, fingers unexpectedly cold. “Uh… well, first we need to get cleaned up and dressed.” Tony yanked the condom off, twisted the end into a knot and threw it in the trash. Pulled his pants up, and then started rummaging through his desk drawers. Tissues, yes, okay, good… great. Oh! Thank Christ for Pepper. Wet wipes. Tony had a terrible habit of heading into the R&D areas, or installing power cables in the server room floors and then heading out to a meeting with dirty hands and a greasy face. “Here.”

James opened the package and started cleaning up his chest and belly, not looking up at Tony as he tossed the used wipes away. “Thanks,” he said.

“Look, don’t, honey, okay?” Tony implored. “Whatever you think this is, you’re wrong. It’s… it’s got nothing to do with the job, or me being your boss or anything like that, okay? I just… like you. Okay?” He didn’t know what to do to make this right, but probably spreading James across his desk like a sandwich hadn’t been the best decision ever.

“Okay,” James said. “I don’t _know_ what this is. So… uh--”

If Tony Stark didn’t come with so much fucking baggage. Tony sighed. “You tell me what you’re comfortable with. I thought you were with me, the whole time.”

“I am!” James exclaimed. “I totally… I was. It’s just… you’re _you_. And I’m, like, nobody.”

“No,” Tony said. “First off, Tony Stark… he’s not a real person, honey. He’s an image. He’s… what I pretend to be. What happened here, and last night. That was me. Me. Just, you know, Tony. I liked that. I’m sorry, you probably had the right to know what you were getting up to last night, but--”

James chewed on his lower lip and that was fucking criminal, that was. “Um, okay,” James said. “I kinda get that, I mean. I can… get that. You want this--” he drew a circle with his hands, indicating himself, pants still around his ankles and Tony, half dressed, both of them smelling of sex and sweat. “--and that… outside. That’s separate. Okay? I can do that. But uh… we probably shouldn’t do this. Here. Again.” He shifted on the desk for a moment, and Tony backed out of his space so James could yank his trousers up.

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, probably not. But, you’ve got my number, it’s my personal number. If you want to call. I’ll um… put the ball in your court, so to speak.”

“Okay.” James found his shirt and pulled it on. Raked a hand through his hair. “Christ, I’m still on th’ clock. Tick tock and all that. I ain’t gonna pass muster, am I?”

Tony winced. “Pretty hopeless,” he said. “Uh, anyone who looked at either of us… look, I have a private elevator down into the parking garage. We can take that, I’ll drive you home? I mean, do you--”

“I took the subway in,” James said. “Thanks, a ride… that’d be nice.”

They didn’t talk much. Tony tucked his shirt in and found his belt. James put his tie in his pocket, grabbed his wallet. Gave Tony the direction, and then sat in the passenger seat and stared out the window. The Jaguar sat, smug, in its parking space, like it knew what Tony had been up to. Of course it did.

_Stop anthropomorphizing your car, Stark._

“Hey,” Tony said, as he finally pulled up onto the block. “We’re here.”

“Yeah,” James said. “Um. Thanks for the ride. And… uh, everything else.” He gave Tony a small smile, like a gift. “The promotion, too. An’... yeah. Okay. Give me a few days t’ get my head on straight, okay? I’ll… I’ll call you.”

Tony closed his eyes out of sheer relief. “Thanks,” he said. “And you’re welcome. For the promotion. And everything else.”

He waited, watching James head into his building, then pulled away.

Tony was all the way back at his hotel before he realized that James had never signed the NDA.

And he had four messages from Pepper, all of which were some variety of “don’t sleep with the man again. Tony, Tony, why aren’t you answering me.”

Tony heaved a great sigh.

He was so, so screwed.


	3. Just a Step (On the Bossman's Ladder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your boss wants you to sign an NDA in order to be his boyfriend...
> 
> \-- well, Bucky guesses that he signs the damn form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Dolly Parton's "Nine to Five"

There was a certain adjustment period to post-merger integrations.

Bucky found himself with three direct reports -- two of whom were new to Bucky’s office, but long term Stark Industries employees, and one of them he’d known casually from a few meetings. Which was sort of good: Bucky didn’t really see things going well if Justin Hammer had been put on his team. He and Bucky didn’t get along to start with, and there was no way Justin would have been at all a cooperative asset. And under those three were a staff of sixteen, plus Darcy Lewis who didn’t answer directly to anyone in the Department, but was sort of in her own chain of command, but considered part of Bucky’s team.

And Natalia Rushman. Bucky wasn’t sure how she fit into the chain of command at all, except he thought that she answered directly to Pepper Potts. Who Bucky had only seen on a few town hall skype meetings; Ms. Potts was, pretty much, the big boss.

Tony Stark, while the company owner and Company Technical Officer, didn’t quite fit into what Bucky thought of as company structure, either.

As far as everyone else was concerned, Tony was the Big Boss, at least for the New York office. At least for the time being.

But Bucky wasn’t quite sure what Tony _did exactly_ for the company; he spent time in R &D, he spent time in his office, and he spent time wandering the halls, talking to people who drew his attention.

Except Bucky.

Bucky was not going to admit to a certain amount of obsession as to what Tony was doing and who Tony was talking to. He wasn’t. He was fine. He was…

Ok, yeah, so he had Darcy reporting back to him, because Darcy knew everything that happened in the office, even now, with all the new people.

Who did Tony talk to, where did he go, was he in closed door meetings, one on one with other employees? Were they good looking employees?

Apparently he liked raspberry jelly donuts.

“Are you hot for the boss?” Darcy finally asked, after yet another long discussion where Bucky had dragged her into the copy room to get a run down on where Tony had been all day.

Or, more exactly, why he hadn’t said anything to Bucky. At all.

Maybe it was the NDA, which Bucky had never signed. Tony had printed it out, handed it to him. It covered a lot of nonsense about intellectual property, and Bucky’s use and dissemination of company-owned confidential information, blah blah blah, and an agreement for Bucky to not disclose information of a personal level that might bring substantial harm upon Stark Industries, or Tony Stark. Which was to say, don’t talk about your affair.

Which yeah, that was fine. Bucky’d had sex with the boss-boss. Anything that affected Bucky’s corporate relationship with Tony after that was suspect. Was Tony promoting and giving bonuses to Bucky because Bucky was fucking him? It was certainly something that Bucky could see wondering about, if say, Justin Hammer had gotten the job and Tony was fucking him instead.

Except they’d ended up having sex again, with Bucky bouncing up and down on Tony’s cock, and-- he had no idea what happened to the NDA. He hadn’t signed it; he hadn’t even finished reading through it.

He’d waited a day. Or two. On edge. To see if it would show up in his inbox. Or if Tony would stop by to politely remind him.

Or something.

But instead, Bucky’d fallen into a holding pattern where everyone got some personal attention from Tony. Except him.

“What?” Bucky asked, suddenly realizing that Darcy was tapping her foot, waiting for an answer to her question.

“You are, nevermind,” Darcy said.

“I’m what?”

“Hot for Mr. Stark,” Darcy said. “That’s why you’ve got me following him around; you liiiiike him.”

“What, are we in fifth grade here?” That was no good. Darcy was the gossip queen, she-- “Look, you can’t say that to people. I could lose my job.”

“Oh, shit, you _are_ hot for him,” Darcy said, slapping her cheeks like that kid from the _Home Alone_ movies.

“Darce--”

“No, no, don’t worry, this is way too hot to share,” Darcy said. “Like, this is the floor is lava of office gossip. Nope, I like being employed, I like being employed by Stark Industries and I mostly like working on your team. So, are you just like, being a stalker or what?”

Bucky chewed his lip. He _hadn’t_ signed the NDA.  

“Oh, holy shit,” Darcy said, her face lighting up like a fireworks display. “What happened, you have to tell me all about it!”

The NDA was going to do no good whatsoever because Bucky couldn’t keep his feelings off his face, damnit.

“Look, I can’t--” Bucky said.

“Yeah, yeah, you can’t talk about it, that’s fine.” Darcy considered that for a moment, then asked, “Does anyone else know?”

“Ms. Potts, I think,” Bucky said.

Darcy squealed and bounced around in a circle. “This is so cool, this is so exciting!”

“Darce--”

“No, I get it, I do, I’m cool, I’ll be cool, I’ll--”

The door opened to the copy room.

Of course it was Tony.

Of course it was.

“Miss Lewis. Mr. Barnes,” Tony said, one eyebrow up. “I’m sorry, I must have missed the memo about the inter departmental meeting in here.”

“No, we weren’t _meeting_ here, we just… met here,” Darcy said, gesturing sort of absently. Her poker face was better than Bucky’s. Probably. Because Bucky could feel all the blood draining out of his body and wondered if it was pooling around his feet like a murder scene.

Tony dropped those expensive, tinted sunglasses down his nose. _Pretentious_ , Bucky thought, as the man obviously didn’t need prescription glasses, he wore sunglasses inside as some sort of fashion statement, as the lenses were often tinted to match his tie. “Well, if you don’t mind, Miss Lewis, I’d like to borrow Mr. Barnes for a moment or two, so if you’re not meeting here, why don’t you toodle on off somewhere else?”

 _Don’t you leave me here_ , Bucky tried to scream with his brain in Darcy’s general direction. She didn’t even look at him, the traitor. “Yeah, sure, you… do that.”

She made a hasty escape, which was all good and well, and then rather pointedly closed the door behind them. He wondered if she’d post an out-of-order sign on the door, and more precisely, did he want her to?

“Uh.”

“Look,” Tony said, half turned toward the closed door, “I see that… whatever this was, it’s not working for us, and I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying to find some way to middle ground us out of an awkward, post hook-up situation, but I need you to help me out here. It came to my attention that everyone thinks I don’t like you, and that you’re probably up on the block to be fired, which is making your team nervous--”

“Erm, why?”

“Why is it making your team nervous? Because you’re a damn good team leader and they don’t want to lose you,” Tony said.

“No, I mean-- why is it not working?”

“You tell me, sunshine,” Tony said, leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest. His body language was seriously closed off. “Ball’s on your court. All the perceived power in this situation is in my hands, so I have to wait for you to come to me. Which you’re not doing, and that’s fine, I-- I mean, I’m hurt, a little bit, but I’ll get over it. But you’re also--”

Bucky almost asked him if that was real, if Tony was actually hurt that Bucky hadn’t called, hadn’t made a move. But there was something deeper there; that Bucky wanted to make sure that Tony was going to wait, wanted to be sure he wasn’t gaining special favors. He wanted a few weeks to see if he could do the job he was given. And it wasn’t a _gift_. He’d earned it, and he was working hard.

“No, I--” Bucky took a step closer, and then another step as something on his face -- Tony was studying his expression intently -- opened up Tony’s body language. “I was afraid if I didn’t avoid you, that--”

And then it didn’t matter, because Tony drew him in like gravity, arms going up helplessly until he dragged Bucky in for a heated kiss.

“Oh, god, _James_ ,” Tony groaned under him, gasping around the kiss, breath hot on Bucky’s cheek.

Tony’s mouth was quick and clever; he tasted like coffee and he smelled like expensive cologne. The feel of his suit jacket under Bucky’s hands was heaven, body heat seeping through.

“That,” Bucky said. “That, I was afraid of that, I can’t--” It was like a compulsion, once he had his hands on Tony again, that he just couldn’t seem to let go, and Tony was whimpering, soft little groans. Tony’s hips rolled against Bucky’s thigh, seeking friction and damn, Bucky wanted to give it to him. Wanted to strip all Tony’s clothes off and make him scream, right here in the goddamn copy-room--

_Right here in the goddamn copy room._

“Fuck, Tony,” Bucky growled. “We--”

“Fuck, _yes_ , James,” Tony responded, and his hands were under Bucky’s shirt, palms stroking Bucky’s back and sides.

They shouldn’t, they really should not, but Tony was right there, and Bucky wanted him, wanted him so damn bad. They were necking like teenagers, and like a teenager, Bucky was keeping one wary eye on the door, feeling the heat in his belly combined with nerves of _what if they walk in._

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bucky said, pushing back a little, trying to breath in that shallow space between their bodies, and Tony’s pout that made him want to dive right back in and kiss it off his face.

“UUuuug, I _hate_ waiting,” Tony whined. He sucked air. Tony couldn’t seem to be able to look any higher than Bucky’s mouth -- which made Bucky want to lick his lips. Which seemed like it would start the whole frantically kissing thing all over again. Bucky bit his tongue. Hard. “Look, I’m not good at this relating to people, pre-relationship… thing. Whatever this is, I’m bad at it. So help me out. Tell me--”

“I want to--” Bucky had to fend off another attempt at a kiss, and he really didn’t want to do that, Tony’s kisses were excellent. He wanted to sit on them and hoard them like a dragon. “Not-- Tony, please, _not here_ , okay?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, no, you said that, didn’t you?” Tony managed, backing off. “Yeah, okay. Not at the office. Right.”

“I did,” Bucky said, and then he was chasing Tony down again, because that lush mouth was pink and swollen and so tempting, and Tony melted into it. God, they were hopeless, like horny kids, groping against the door. Bucky’s hands slid into Tony’s hair, catching his face and keeping his mouth right where Bucky wanted it. Bucky licked into Tony’s mouth again, and then again. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Sorry for--” Tony’s hand slid down Bucky’s chest, below the belt, rubbing against Bucky’s groin, and Bucky groaned, pushed into it. Still knowing they shouldn’t be doing this, and damn it, doing it anyway. “Sorry for what?” Tony pushed him the other way, and they ended up backed against the copier. Bucky scrambled, felt the photocopier button under his hand, and it thunked with a _zip-rrrrrrrr_ , making a copy of the underside of the lid.

“You’re like a drug,” Bucky told him, chasing that mouth again.

“Uh-huh,” Tony agreed pleasantly, snuggling against Bucky’s chest.

The photocopier went off again.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, Tony was a lot stronger than Bucky would have thought, but Bucky ended up sitting on top of the copier, Tony cradled between his thighs. The copier went off a few times, flashing bright lights and _squirking_ out sheets of paper in the tray. Why the damn thing never worked when Bucky wanted it to work, he wasn’t sure-- “Wait, come on, Tony, this thing’s gonna make me sterile,” Bucky protested, laughing.

“That’s an exaggeration,” Tony said, but he did back off, panting. He straightened his tie, brushed down the front of his shirt. He was sporting a little bit of sex-hair, but Tony’s style was always a little “just rolled out of bed.”

“Okay,” and Bucky held up his hands, not sure if he was surrendering, or warding Tony off. “Okay, so this is still a thing we both want. We should… look, do you want to go out, tonight, or something?”

“Right after work? Yes,” Tony said. He glanced at his wrist, which didn’t have a watch on it. “Meet me in my office, we can take my private lift down to the garage. You still take the train in?”

“I don’t understand why you have a car in the city,” Bucky muttered.

“The better to seduce guys in the back seat with, my dear.”

“Big bad wolf,” Bucky said, shaking his head and grinning.

“Better run, red riding hood, before I eat you up.”

Bucky fled.

***

Bucky wasn’t sure, really, how he got through the rest of his day. Mostly staring at the clock. He’d write an email, check a process document, attend a meeting and then he was back, looking at the clock and thinking that the damn thing was straight up lying to him.

But eventually four-thirty rolled around and he shut down his last change ticket, closed his laptop and turned off the lights to his office.

He gave Darcy a wink on his way to the elevator -- Tony’s office was on the floor above his, but there was no way for Darcy to know he was going up and not down. Well, unless she followed him out to the elevators, and Bucky wouldn’t quite put that past her.

No one was in the elevator, and that was probably good. He wasn’t sure he could handle any small talk.

The hall to Tony’s office seemed long and somehow uninviting. There were huge framed portraits hung on the wall, founders of Stark Industries, and top end executives. Hank Pym, who’d eventually gone off and made his own company, appeared to glare with crazy eyes at him as he passed. Howard Stark, both a younger portrait and an older one, were side by side. One labeled with Howard as the CEO and the other labeled as CTO. Pepper Potts’ portrait was featured right by Tony’s door.

That had to be hard, walking past a gorgeous painting of your ex, every single day. Bucky stopped to look at her.

If there was someone who was his opposite in every way, it was Pepper Potts. Neat and thin, with brilliant strawberry hair pinned in place, a white suit jacket framing her narrow face. She had a soft smile, and a distant look in her eyes, like no one could ever imagine her dreams.

“Hey,” Tony said, coming out to stand in the hall with him. “Working up your nerve?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted. “I’m nothing like her.”

“Well, that’s good,” Tony said. “As it went disastrously with her. I like to avoid repeating my mistakes. There are so many new and exciting mistakes to make.”

Bucky laughed. “Okay, yeah,” he said. “Is that what we’re doing here? Making new and exciting mistakes?”

“New and exciting, yes,” Tony said. “Mistakes? Well, I’d like to say no, but past events predict future trends. But I’ll put my cards on the table.” He stood next to Bucky and they both looked at the picture of Pepper Potts, which seemed like a strange place to have this particular conversation. “I’ve been in a long term relationship, and I’ve been alone, and I’ve slept around. I’m pretty sure you know all that. I find, in my personal happiness, which has never rated particularly high on my consideration list, that I prefer to be in a relationship.”

“So, you want a relationship, but it’s not high on your priority list?” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, ending with a squeeze at the back of his neck. “That’s not really selling me on it.”

“Don’t twist my words,” Tony said. “I’m trying.”

“I’m not… adverse. To seeing if there’s any potential,” Bucky said. “If that’s what you’re asking. Dating with intent. I uh… didn’t sign that NDA, you know.”

“So Pepper reminds me,” Tony said. “Daily. But if we’re _dating_ , that’s an entirely different NDA. I still have to protect my company.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. Glanced at Tony, and clarified, “I’ll sign the dating one. If we’re going to keep doing this.”

He’d never signed paperwork before dating anyone, and Tony rather insisted that he read through it before he signed it. Which was really only smart, even if Bucky was a hundred percent aware that Tony was watching him intently as he read through it.

“Any questions?”

The document was pretty clear; no stealing ideas, no putting revenge porn videos up, no recording, reproducing, or replicating any ideas, information, or confidential documents. No exclusive interviews without prior consent. No book deals, without prior written consent.

“I’m bound by the same,” Tony said, absently, signing his name under Bucky’s. “I won’t badmouth you on the Jimmy Kimmel show, if we break up. If things don’t work out, Pepper will have a PR person to help you with any news outbreaks.”

“Kinda makes everything seem very _official_ ,” Bucky joked.   

“Mostly, it’s we promise not to steal each other’s ideas, or be assholes in public. Frankly, I think most people could benefit from those sorts of agreements,” Tony said.

“Does this-- feel weird to you?” Bucky wondered, because he’d really never done any of this before. When he’d gotten into his few (failed) relationships, they’d just _happened_. He couldn’t really point to a moment where he had declared an intent, or decided they were dating. They’d just gone from one to the other, and then to yelling and screaming and throwing stuff out the window.

Maybe Tony had a point.

“It’s a little less fun than making out in the copy room,” Tony said, “and you know, you’re not committed to anything beyond not, you know, stealing my ideas and bad mouthing me to the press. It’s not a…”

“Marriage license?” Bucky suggested.

Tony shuddered, then shook his head. Good to know they were still on the same page. “We’re totally not picking out curtains together, yet, precious.”

Bucky laughed. Decided in that instant that if it worked out, he was going to get Tony a Lord of the Rings poster or something as a gift. One moment at a time. “I could get back to the making out in the copy room part of things, myself.”

“How about _going down_ in an elevator?”

An explosion of heat in Bucky’s guts and his knees went weak. “For the love of God, _yes_ ,” he managed.

Tony grabbed him, then, and his lips came down on Bucky’s, so fast, so hard, Bucky barely had time to catch his breath. Tony tapped the access panel on his desk, opening the sliding door of the elevator. It was loosely disguised as being the back wall of Tony’s office, barely visible unless you knew it was there.

Tony grabbed his keys off his desk, leaving his jacket behind. They barely got into the elevator before they were kissing frantically, grinding against each other. Tony’s hands were in Bucky’s belt loops, pulling Bucky against him. The heavy weight of Tony’s arousal was a brand across Bucky’s thigh. God, Bucky wanted him. Wanted everything. Anything.

He tore at Tony’s clothing, wanting nothing more than the heat of Tony’s skin, the taste of him. Tony mouthed at Bucky’s throat, whimpered when Bucky got a hand down the front of his slacks. Bucky was panting with desire, sank to his knees as he worked open Tony’s belt, yanked down his zipper and shoved those slacks around Tony’s thighs.

Tony clutched at Bucky’s head for support, fingers raking into Bucky’s hair, grasping, tugging, directing. Tony sighed his name, then was begging for more as Bucky licked at that proud cock.

Tony went stiff, then sagged against the back wall of the elevator as Bucky licked and sucked him back. Bucky’s own trousers got tight, uncomfortable, and he reached down to straighten himself out, to rub a hand over his own cock, even as he licked and lipped at the Tony’s crown. Too good, too much, like his body had been made just for this moment, for Tony to bring him to this heat and need.

Tony moaned, rocking his hips like he didn’t know if he wanted to pull back or push forward, and it didn’t matter, because Bucky’s fingers were on his ass, keeping Tony right where he wanted him. Tony made sweet, moaning, needy sounds, and his legs buckled, thighs quivering.

“Yeah, that’s, oh, that’s good,” Tony praised him and Bucky thrilled to the praise.

Bucky was a man with a purpose, every kiss was calculated to bring Tony Stark to his knees -- metaphorically speaking. If something made him moan or gasp or swear, Bucky did it again and again. Each touch and caress designed to bring Tony to shattering pleasure.

And that, quickly, since the elevator was an express to the employee garage.

Tony shimmied partly out of his pants. He was wearing sock-suspenders over his knee. The elastic had left a few red marks on his skin. Bucky wasn’t sure why that was sexy as hell, but it was. He tipped his face to one side and deposited eager kisses against Tony’s thigh, grinning as Tony whimpered with need.

“I gotcha,” Bucky told him. “Gonna get you there.”

Tony had one leg thrown over Bucky’s shoulder, wanton and uninhibited. He had his head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling -- Bucky glanced up and realized that it was mirrored, and heat blossomed across his neck and throat and spread rapidly up and down, what Tony was seeing. What Bucky was doing.

He twisted his neck, sliding his mouth around Tony’s dick, tasting the burst of precome. He hummed, vibrating his throat, letting the muscles relax and took him back even further.

“Holy shit,” Tony hissed.

Bucky lapped and lipped, taking Tony deeper with every bob of Bucky’s head,

The elevator bounced to a stop. The doors opened with a chime and Tony’s hands tightened in Bucky’s hair. “Don’t you _dare_ stop--” More pleading than ordering, sweet and desperate.

Bucky swallowed around his mouthful of Tony’s dick, making Tony fall back against the wall. A moment later the doors closed again, which was at least a little bit of a relief. They probably weren’t any more exposed with the door open, but Bucky wasn’t quite as shameless as Tony.

It wasn’t much longer before Tony was panting for breath, each exhale a moan. He shivered and shuddered, thighs quaking, and Bucky was all but holding him up.

“Oh, oh, yeah, oh, _god_ ,” Tony groaned. Bucky choked as come hit him in the back of his throat, then swallowed hastily. A little too much, Bucky felt it spill down his chin, splatter on the floor before Tony finished.

Bucky wiped his chin with the back of his hand. He kissed the inside of Tony’s wrist, feeling indescribably tender toward the man he’d just wrecked.

“One of these days,” Bucky said, like this was old hat, and they’d had sex dozens of times, instead of just three, “we’re going to actually make it to a bed.” He straightened himself out, cock complaining of cramped quarters and a burning need to have Tony do something with it.

“If you’ll let me take you back to my place, I can see about getting you that bed right away,” Tony said. He half-heartedly pulled his pants up and zipped, leaving the tails of his button-down shirt out. He looked utterly dishevelled and used. It was a good look on him, Bucky decided, a hint of pride in being the one to get him into such a state.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky agreed.

“I’ll order delivery, whatever you want,” Tony said. “There’s a place I know that does amazing lobster mac and cheese, we can eat in bed, watch a movie. I have a heated indoor pool, if you want to go swimming.”

“Sounds great.”

Tony kissed him, not even wincing away from the taste of himself that lingered in Bucky’s mouth. “Yeah, it does.” He twined their fingers together and led Bucky over to that car. The car rumbled to life as Tony poked the keyfob, almost like it _knew_.

Tony opened the door for him with a flourish and Bucky dropped into the passenger seat. A moment later, Tony threw himself into the driver’s side, had the engine roaring in eager anticipation. He shifted gears, then put his hand on Bucky’s thigh, warm and teasing.

“Hands on the wheel, Tony,” Bucky said. “You’ll drive faster if you’re paying attention.”

“Are we in a hurry?” Tony teased.

“What do you think?”

Tony’s laugh trailed off behind them like a kite as he peeled out of the parking lot.

He did not, however, take his hand off Bucky’s thigh, teasing him the whole way.


End file.
